Learn by Experience
by Terrifica Oneiroi
Summary: AU. Thanks to one mispronounced spell, Rose Weasley sends her 37 year old godfather, who is also her DADA professor, back to 1978. HPRL Est. HGRW Est.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter & Proper Nouns © J. K. Rowling

Summary: This is AU, and I mean _way_ alternate. Rose Weasley mispronounces a spell, and the DADA teacher, who just happens to be her godfather, one Harry J. Potter, now 37 years old, jumps in front of the oncoming spell to save Scorpius. He's sent back to 1978, which just happens to be the Autumn the Marauders started their last year at Hogwarts.

Pairings: HPRL Est., SBRL Past, HGRW Est. Oh, and a little SMRW on the side. (Some mild DMHG one-sided)

Warnings: cursing and strong language. Male/Male romantic situations/ graphic adult scenes. (but not until later.)

* * *

**Learn by Experience **

Albus pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at the distraught girl about to take a trip into hysterics. Said Gryffindor was waving her hands about and stammering over her words while her curls were bouncing from the shaking in her shoulders. Quite understandably, the girl was panicking. He was very much reminded of the teen's mother, both in looks and mannerisms.

"It w-was an accident! I was trying t-to say _Tempestas_, b-but I said _Tempus_! Th-there was this light, and he just dis-disappeared! Mum is going to be s-so angry, I just know it."

The boy that stood faithfully at the girl's side held onto her hand, trying to lend his closest friend support. Once again, he was reminded of the teenagers' parents, though the boy was acting completely the opposite his father and grandfather. He turned to the young witch who was on the brink of tears.

"I can assure you that your professor is fine, Miss Weasley. Also, I have contacted your mother, and she is not cross. In fact, she might have chuckled a bit. Your godfather is a fully trained wizard, more than capable of taking care of himself, and quite resourceful. He will be perfectly fine, my dear. As I'm sure you have worked out for yourself, using _tempus_ in the place of _tempestas_ changed your weather charm into a time charm, and those are quite finicky. I would wager that your professor has been transported into another time. It is unlikely that he would have traveled more than fifty years in either direction."

The girl nodded shakily, not at all able to deny the fact that her godfather, who is also her professor, was plenty capable of handling any tough situation. However, whether the girl could handle a lecture from her mother just yet was undetermined.

"Now, Miss Weasley, you mother is going to arrive in my office with Mister Malfoy's father in just a moment. I imagine that you would prefer to be far from the room when that happens? Yes? Good. You have both been relieved from classes for the remainder of the day. You may want to let your brother know what has transpired. However, try not to worry overly. Harry will be just fine, take my word for it, please."

With that, young Scorpius led a docile Rose Weasley out of his office. Albus let go the urge to laugh; it had been tickling the back of the throat since he heard what had happened to Harry. The boy had been trying to give his goddaughter what little advantage he could before it became unfair to do as he was then officially her professor first, and required to forgo bias in his teaching. Young Rose had a desire to match her mother's high marks; however, unfortunately, it seemed the girl was much better in theory than in practice. Still, she had to be given credit. Not many soon-to-be fifth years would attempt a weather summoning charm, despite how badly it had ended.

His chuckling was punctuated by the roar of the Floo network. Draco Malfoy stepped out of the hearth gracefully, holding out a hand to assist Hermione Weasley, nèe Granger, as she came in right behind him. The blonde man smiled politely and nodded his head in greeting.

"Good Morning, Headmaster."

Hermione, who was understandably more comfortable around him (_she_ hadn't tried to kill him, after all), grinned in a friendly, open manner. Her greeting was more personal, as friends tend to be.

"Hello Albus. Having an enjoyable morning?"

The woman's tone was teasing, having already heard about the events in the Defense room.

"I daresay a good sight more pleasant morning than dear Harry is having."

Draco dropped his composed façade for a moment to roll his eyes heavenward

"Only Potter."

Albus found himself agreeing, despite caring greatly for Harry. Or, perhaps he agreed _because_ of his fondness for the boy.

"Your children were just here. Poor Rose was most distraught, certain she had doomed her godfather."

Hermione nodded.

"I'll talk to her later about the importance of proper pronunciation. How, exactly, did Harry get caught in that spell?"

Draco shifted to sit in one of the chairs before the desk.

"Oh, I have no doubt that Potter was, once again, playing the hero. Just like a Gryffindor."

Albus folded his hands.

"Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whose perspective you look at it from, you are quite correct."

Hermione joined Draco in front of the desk.

"For whom is the fact that Harry has, once again, gotten himself into incredible trouble a fortunate thing?"

Feeling like a fool for being the only one remaining standing, he rounded his desk, bestowing a pat on Fawkes' head, and took his seat.

"It is fortunate for Mister Malfoy the younger, who would be the one now somewhere unknown if not for Harry's intervention."

It amused him to see Hermione raise an eyebrow in Draco's direction. It was a clear _as you were saying?_ gesture. It was nice to see the two getting along at last, as their children seemed to be joined at the hip these days. Certainly, it was the best relationship that had ever existed between a Malfoy and a Weasley. Rose and Scorpius were breaking ground at Hogwarts, as a Gryffindor/Slytherin romance was a rarity, even these many years later.

Curiously, Hermione began to fidget. It had been nearly twenty years since the girl had graduated, and yet, her nervous tells were exactly the same. Whatever was bothering the girl, she was most reticent to expose herself.

"I hope you don't mind, but I Floo-called Remus already. He would be even more upset if I had waited to tell him."

Albus nodded, understanding. Many years previous, Harry had gotten into trouble with Frenrir Greyback. There was an attack where the then 17 year old Harry Potter was taken hostage. When they found the boy, he had been scarred badly, and bitten several times out of spite. The bond that had been formed as mentor and pupil between Harry and Remus grew in the face of adjusting to that new life, becoming infinitely stronger and essential for both wizards. It wasn't long before their dependence in one another took a turn into romantic feelings. Of course, Harry was then 18, well beyond the age of consent, even in the Muggle world, but that did not lessen the scandal one bit.

Molly had fairly disowned Harry, her plans for her daughter gone up on smoke, though it had been known for quite a long time that Harry had no intentions of dating or marrying the youngest Weasley child. It would be many months, all of them full of tension and hurt feelings, when Remus approached his mate's once adoptive mother. They had met in this very office, a neutral territory for both, as the atmosphere at the Burrow had taken a hostile and unfriendly air.

_Remus stood before the short woman, strong enough to hold her angry gaze where not many others could, including her own children. He shook his head sadly._

"_If I could give Harry up so that this would end, I might. I hate seeing him so helpless and heartbroken. You are the only mother Harry's ever really known; you and Arthur were the first adults to care for him in that manner, and genuinely as a person. If my letting him go would mean that you both stopped hurting one another, I could do it. It would ruin me, but I could do it, for Harry._

"_However, I'm not going to do that. For whatever reason, and your guess is as good as mine, Harry's chosen me, and I'm not daft enough to ignore that. You want me to leave him for his own good, but I respect him enough to never take away his right to make his own decisions. There are plenty of people who have done that in his life, and I will never be one of them. I'm here for however long he wants me. The fact that Harry is willing to quarrel with you, a woman he's viewed as his own mother for years, and risk having a fall out with his only family, tells me that he has not made this choice lightly._

_Oh, and Harry wished me to tell you that he will stay away from the Burrow unless asked. He doesn't want his choices to make things harder for anyone else."_

It hadn't taken long after that for Molly to come around. A few months later, the press stopped caring and things settled down. Remus, with Harry's encouragement and support had opened a bookstore nearby in Hogsmeade village. Harry realized early on that a life fighting dark wizards wasn't what he wanted. He took a few years traveling and studying Defense around the world, with Remus at his side. When the two returned, Remus had many rare magical tomes to add to his Special Texts section in his shop, and Albus offered Harry the Defense Against the Dark Arts position immediately. It seemed that Harry had a knack for breaking curses. Almost fifteen years had gone by, and Harry would still rather jump in front of a student than cast a shield charm.

Albus dragged himself back to the present. His two ex-students were watching the Headmasters' portraits. He cleared his throat to get their attention again.

"How did Remus respond?"

At times, the older werewolf could be excessively protective of his younger mate. Only some of that could be attributed to their lycanthropy. The fact that Remus was, at times, insecure, meant that he held on to his closest family and friends tightly. Losing his school-friends was a large blow to his confidence, but Harry was the best at encouraging Remus to meet new people and try new things.

"He took it quite well, actually. He rolled his eyes and sighed, muttering about ordering more Shielding Technique textbooks for the shop. I think he's come to expect chaos around Harry."

Hermione refrained from adding _like the rest of us_, though they were all thinking it. Draco spoke suddenly.

"Well, it's not as if we can do anything but wait. It is entirely up to Potter to reverse the spell. I do wonder, however, when he landed."

Albus was sure they had all thought the same thing at some point this morning. He felt a sudden pang of guilt, as he knew exactly when Harry landed in the timeline. His memory was fading in his old age, but he certainly could remember a stranger landing bottom-first on his carpet nearly 41 years ago.

"It's good that Severus made Potter memorize the Wolfsbane formula after he was turned."

Hermione nodded, though she grimaced.

"And even though we were sure Professor Snape was going to just kill Harry and be done with it, it _is_ a boon that he made the idiot practice it until he could brew it with a blindfold."

They all grinned, remembering the shouting coming from the Potions classroom, which, if Harry was extremely unlucky, would precede an explosion, and then more shouting. Somehow, and it was still mostly unknown to everyone but Remus, that time of forced companionship forged a new friendship between the former enemies. It was strange, the way the two would trade banter and insults. The first time they had dared to do so around others ended in hilarity, as Minerva jumped in front of Harry, willing to defend him from whatever attack Severus could form. Severus claimed that the dumbfounded look on his old professor's face was worth the entire thing. Hermione stood suddenly and slapped her hands together, jolting them all from their reminiscing.

"Well, I'm going to find Rose and calm her down. If I know her, she's downright panicked that she's somehow hurt Harry. I sometimes worry that she's too much like me, worrying needlessly over small things, but then Hugo blows something up, and I thank the stars that she is."

They all waved goodbye to her as she breezed out of the door. Draco took that as his cue to stand as well; however, Albus stilled him with an extended hand.

"One moment, Mister Malfoy. I meant to inquire as to if you were aware how close your Scorpius is to the young Miss Weasley."

He was quite interested to see Draco flush.

"Quite. I believe his words were: "_I love her, so you'd best get over your antiquated pureblood ideals and personal grudges._" He has every intention of joining the Weasley and Malfoy lines."

Albus raised an eyebrow. Lucius would be most displeased, and that was putting it lightly. Merlin knew that Abraxas was rolling in his grave.

"Your thoughts?"

The younger man shrugged; it was a gesture that showed him ill-at-ease with the entire situation.

"If Potter and Severus can form a friendship, anything is possible. I find myself proud that it is _my_ son that has the courage to go after what he wants, in the face of what everyone else thinks. I never did."

As the young man looks towards the doorway, Albus realizes that there still must be a good bit of unrequited feelings lingering in Draco, despite his marriage to Astoria. Lucius's hold over Draco had always been strong. He felt just as bad for this man as he did when Draco was a child, and had to accomplish impossible tasks to earn the love and approval of his father. Unfortunately, it had been a technique that Lucius learned from his own father, Abraxas Malfoy.

"That strength comes from you, dear boy. You are more alike than you realize."

Draco blinked.

"I dearly hope not."

When the younger man bids him good day, Albus stands. He walks over to one of the many cabinets in his office, pulling a pocket watch from a hidden drawer. It has only one hand, which reads: _H. Potter_.

It points to the word _Traveling_.

_Well, that's a bit of an understatement, isn't it?_

**_

* * *

_**

All in all, things could have gone a lot worse. When he'd jumped between Scorpius and Rose's spell, he'd envisioned mangled bloody body parts, fires, and utter destruction. What he got was a bit of light and a sudden arse-first landing on the garish carpet in Albus's office. He even had both eyebrows! It could have been disastrous.

Harry cringed when he thought of Remus's reaction. After all, it was well known that he had a talent for getting into trouble. It was a legacy that he never could shake, and had eventually given up trying to. He found it much easier to embrace the chaos of his life. That didn't mean that Remus wouldn't worry, or that he wouldn't get a good tongue lashing when Remus realized he was safe. Actually, "tongue lashing" could mean quite a few things...

Well, he'd think about that later. He gingerly stood, wincing when he was standing upright. That would be an embarrassing soreness to explain.

Spotting his flame-feathered friend, Harry walked up to the phoenix's perch. Fawkes tilted his head to the side in mid-groom and peered at him. He wasn't at all surprised when the magnificent bird lifted himself off the gilded perch and graced Harry's shoulder. A shark onyx beak nudged his ear, causing Harry to laugh. After rummaging around in his robe, he gave the impatient song-bird his treat. A clearing throat broke through their camaraderie. He turned to find Albus standing in the doorway.

"Come now, sir, I know you sneak the little devil Lemon Drops when nobody's looking."

Albus merely nodded, and continued to watch him silently. It was only a moment before he noticed something different about his mentor.

"Albus, did you cut your beard? I mean, it looks good and all, but I thought you were trying to reach your knees."

The Headmaster's eyes twinkled in mirth, yet he remained quiet. Officially, Harry was confused. As a rule, Albus was rarely that quiet.

"Did Minerva hit you with a Silencing sell again? I told you not to bother her before the feast. She's always nervous about the new first-years. Remember what she did last time? I still don't know how she transfigured your hair into a mane; she won't tell me."

Albus chuckled, which put his sense of unease to rest. The elder wizard walked around his desk, taking his seat. He watched as Fawkes tried to find Harry's stash of treats. Harry, batting the nosy bird away, threw a treat up into the air to grab the phoenix's attention. Once Fawkes was back on his perch, Albus motioned to one of the seats.

"I seem to be at a distinct disadvantage."

"How so?"

The older man inclined his head towards his familiar.

"You know Fawkes, and he knows you; however, I am sure we have not had the pleasure of meeting."

Harry's eyebrows met in confusion.

"We've never met? Are you serious?"

"Quite so."

When Albus passed over the house joke, Harry knew that something was amiss with his mentor.

"It's me, Albus; it's Harry. You've known me since before I was even born!"

The Headmaster folded his hands.

"Harry…"

He flung his arms up in the air, the oldest gesture of exasperation.

"Harry James Potter, who else? Boy Who Lived, Defeater of Voldemort, Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for the last 15 years and Head of Slytherin for the last 10. Your own adoptive grandson! What's wrong, Albus? Are you ill?"

He watched the light of comprehension come on his those familiar blue eyes. _Finally!_

"Harry Potter. Harry _James_ Potter. That's extraordinary."

Harry pinched his nose under the bridge of his glasses.

"What is?"

Instead of answering, Albus rummaged around on his desk, finally picking up the Daily Prophet and handing it to Harry. He wondered what was so interesting about that rag, as he'd stopped getting it years ago. The headline wasn't anything spectacular; it boasted a new model broom by the Comet Company. He searched the text for whatever Albus wanted him to see. His eyes lighted on the date only briefly, but snapped back in an instant.

"1978!"

He dropped the paper, pleading with the older wizard.

"Please tell me that you're joking, sir. Tell me that this is a horrible prank set up by Rose and Scorpius to mess with my head. Please tell me that I am not at Hogwarts in _1978_."

"I am afraid it is worse than you know."

Harry laughed.

"I don't see how. I'm 37, and my 17 year old parents just arrived at the castle. And Remus! And Sirius! And Peter! Oh God, Severus! Voldemort is alive again. No sir, I am perfectly aware how disastrous this is. I think it is you who doesn't know how awful this is, but how could you? I left you 41 years into the future! Damn it, Rose!"

Albus just smiled, reminding him, annoyingly, of the future Headmaster.

"I'm sure it was an accident."

Harry snorted.

"Of course it was, but I tell you this, that's the last time I pair those two together. He refuses to attack his girlfriend. It's the first time a Malfoy has refused to harm a Weasley. I know Draco is frustrated beyond belief. And I bet Lucius is near spitting. He would say something, were he not afraid Draco would throw him to the wolves. Literally."

Albus just blinked in the face of Harry's rant. _What a mess._ He took a deep breath.

"Well, as I've got no money other than the few galleons in my pocket, I suppose I should ask if you have need for someone well versed in Defense and Warfare. This lot could do with a little extra combat training, what with Tom gaining more support each day. Say, has the Order been formed yet?"

Albus walked around his desk and leaned against the front of it.

"The Order, and I assume you are referring to the Order of the Phoenix, is just a conceptual idea at the moment, though it is fairly apparent that it will come to fruition as planned. As for the need of extra training, I shall have to defer to your knowledge. Taking all of this into consideration, it sounds as if a Dueling course could be beneficial."

Harry considered this.

"We're talking actual dueling, not customs and traditional protocol, correct? I can assure you that even the Death Eaters with blood as pure as Malfoy's will throw the etiquette book away in the face of possible bloodshed."

Albus mulled over this new information a moment before suggesting a compromise.

"I would like to keep the younger students' lessons age appropriate."

Harry had to shrug. In his time, there hadn't really been anything such as "age appropriate" training. With people dying all around them, any amount of defensive training was a necessary tool.

"Then I would limit the classes to fifth year and above. I fought Voldemort at 15 months, 11, 12, 14, 15, 16, 17, and 18. There's no such thing as being too prepared. Constant Vigilance!"

Albus grinned for what seemed the first time.

"You know Alastor in your time?"

Harry had to bow his head a moment. He wouldn't need to explain to the elder man that his friend died a week before Harry's 17th birthday.

"Ah, I suppose it's just as well that I don't know _too_ much. Though, the fact that Voldemort will be defeated is a comfort. May I ask when that happened?"

"I was 18."

"Incredible."

That sort of attitude wasn't something that Harry was used to getting from Albus. He found himself a little disappointed that not even the great Albus Dumbledore could resist being impressed at the most terrible experience of Harry's life.

"So, have I got the job?"

His would-be mentor smiled genially.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Mister…"

_Ah_. That would be a problem.

"Damarchus."

It was sometimes useful to have such a literate lover. Remus, for reasons that were perfectly understandable, had a fascination with legends of werewolves and humans who turned into wolves. Damarchus was one of Remus's favorites, because he _elected_ to turn into a wolf after Lykaios was sacrificed. Of course, actually _using_ Lykaios would be taking a risk, especially with the younger version of Remus around. He wasn't completely surprised when Albus took great measure to look him square in the eyes.

He no doubt came up against Harry's Occlumency shields. It took him a little by surprise, as it had been many years since Albus had been in his head.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Harry had heard that many times in his youth. Unfortunately, it had taken a lamentable amount of time for him to realize that it was just best to tell the truth.

"Yes. Firstly, as I'm sure you've noticed, Legilimizing me will get you nowhere. I had a strict teacher, and I've been blocking my mind exclusively for over 20 years. I will endeavor to be completely honest with you, always. I am a werewolf. I know that you are not prejudiced towards my kind, as Remus Lupin is currently somewhere in Gryffindor tower at this moment. However, Damocles Belby invented a potion called the Wolfsbane formula, which allows a lycan to keep his or her human mind during the transformation. Normally, I just lock the door to my quarters, no password, as it must be opened from the inside, and go to sleep, much like a regular dog. It's quite amazing. The first few times I transformed, I wasn't allowed to use it. It helps with the pain, as well. If I could have access to the potions lab, preferably one of the smaller ones that Slughorn doesn't frequently use, I can make the potion easily."

Harry hesitated a little bit before he made his next suggestion. It would be unwise to _really_ twist the timelines.

"Also, and I would appreciate your input on this, I could administer an extremely diluted version to Remus. He would never know he was taking it, but his transformation would be that much easier, and he would be able to enjoy his time in the woods around Hogsmeade. I never asked Remus if he used it when he was younger, so I have no way of knowing whether that would skew the timeline too badly."

Albus stroked his beard for a moment.

"I would like Poppy to know your plans. She is much better versed in that area. She would no doubt wish to observe it's affect on you before she allows you to administer to a student, even one that you know. Include her in your processes, and I'm sure that by the next full moon, you both will have come to some agreement."

Harry nodded, though one thing caught his attention.

"Next full moon? Do you think I'll be here that long?"

Albus gave what equated to a shrug in his book.

"It is impossible to say. Time travel is peculiar, having very many precise requirements, and infinite possible outcomes. It will take time to understand what exactly happened. For instance, why did it send you to this time? Why did it send you to the past, and not the future? That sort of thing."

Harry could only nod again. He knew all of that. Still, it seemed like such a long time. And while Remus would be here, he wasn't the Remus that Harry loved. In fact, it would most likely be harder because of that fact. When he looked up, Albus was peering at him most curiously.

"Something you wanted to ask, sir?"

For probably the first time ever, Albus looked unsure of himself.

"Your scars? I assume that they are permanent."

At first, his scars had been a hard subject to talk about. He had always been looked at strangely, and had always been uncomfortable with that, first as the freaky nephew of the Dursley family, and then as the Boy Who Lived. He lamented for a good long time about the unfairness of it all until one afternoon Severus, tired of hearing his adolescent attitude, told him to get over himself. He reminded Harry, in gruesome detail, of the many children who were not lucky enough to survive Greyback's treatment. It was enough to snap him out of his juvenile funk. Besides, Remus seemed to like them, so he really couldn't complain.

Albus interrupted that train of thought, thankfully.

"I'm sorry to offend."

He blushed and waved his hand in dismissal.

"No worries. Poppy tried, of course, but cursed scars, as you know, cannot be healed with magic."

"I wasn't aware, actually, but that does raise questions about your other scar, the one that somehow stands out from the rest. It is a quite peculiar shape, isn't it?"

Oh.

"Yes, it is."

He still came upon children who stole their mother's makeup, or just reached for the felt-tips and drew lightning bolt shapes on their foreheads. It was annoying, and humbling.

"Might I ask how you came to gain that particular one?"

Harry chewed on his lip.

"I survived the Killing Curse, and that's all I can tell you about that."

Albus's eyes sparkled in his excitement and curiosity, but he nodded none the less.

"Understood."

Harry suddenly laughed, and the Headmaster gave him a questioning look.

"Besides, my scars are a good way to introduce the first-years to Defense."

"I imagine they are somewhat afraid."

_More like terrified._

"Yes, until one of my older students, often my godson or goddaughter and her boyfriend, pranks my hair a different color and I fail to notice it in time. Pink seems to be the favorite color."

Albus chuckled good-naturedly.

"I daresay you'll fit right in here. I should warn you, though you most likely know better than I of our group of pranksters."

He had to rub his hands together conspiratorially.

"James Potter is the little ringleader, or so I've heard. Sirius Black will do anything for a laugh. Peter Pettigrew is a faithful lackey, and goes along with anything James says. And then there's Remus Lupin. He looks like the innocent one in the gang, but he's their master behind the pranks. He can time a Dung-bomb down to the second. The Marauders will be a legend for decades, inspiring new pranksters who will drive Filch crazy."

The headmaster nodded.

"Precisely, though I was under the impression that Mister Lupin merely tolerated his friends' pranks."

"He's got you by the beard, old man. Remus is the real wolf in sheep's clothing. Literally, no teenager should own that many wool sweaters."

Albus smiled again, seemingly finding something he liked.

"I admit to being a bit surprised that anyone with such a problem could hold such a prestigious position."

When Harry spoke, he could hear the pride in his own voice.

"The Marauders will pave the way for werewolf tolerance. Remus becomes the DADA professor in my third year, 1995. Then, after I graduate, there's an influx of children infected, due to Voldemort giving Greyback the opportunity to play. He's the one who bit me, repeatedly, just for fun. I have no guilt for putting that rabid dog down. Some of those children were quite young, younger than Remus was. The Wizarding world wanted his blood. Then they had no choice but to accept werewolves. It helped that their Savior was one himself. And when the bloody Savior of the Wizarding world demands that the Anti-Werewolf legislation be abolished, the Minister listens."

"Savior?"

Harry grinned, and it was dark and promised retribution.

"Me."

A nod is his only response. Albus motions towards the door, indicating that they are leaving. Fawkes trills his goodbye, making Harry smile and the elder man chuckle.

"He obviously dotes on you."

Harry can feel the wistful smile that crosses his face, remembering the fire-bird as he rescued Harry and his friends down in the Chamber. Speaking of which, there was a 50 ft Basilisk slumbering down there at the moment.

"He saved my life once."

Albus nods, trusting the truth of Harry's words.

"You're just in time for the Welcoming Feast. The elves will prepare your rooms and classroom tonight, and you can begin teaching in the morning. We'll adjust the student's schedules. This time tomorrow, you'll have met your parents, in all their 17 year-old glory."

Albus grinned like a fool, and Harry grimaced. _I'll meet my parents, the person who betrayed them, my godfather, and my lover._

"I can't wait."

* * *

Save Russian Jews, Win Prizes… and Review!

(By the way: Astoria isn't a Mary-sue for Draco. She's actually the woman he married. She's Daphane Greengrass's younger sister. J. K. Rowling put her on the family tree on her website.)


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter & Proper Nouns © J. K. Rowling

A/N: Okay, I love that you guys are so interested in my story here, but I had an insane number of people put this on Alert, but didn't review! I love hearing your opinions; that's the whole reason any of us writers do this. So, thank you so much for taking an interest, but if it's not too much trouble, I'd love it if you reviewed a little.

(I don't usually do this, but I'd like to thank the following: Mizuki hikari, FairyTails13, Paxwolf, Dadaiiro, Supergreak, White Ivy, leafyaki, HoshiHikari, DarkestAngel13, and Torchwood Prof. You guys reviewed, and I love you for it!)

On with the show!

* * *

_**Learn By Experience**_

Harry woke extremely early the morning of the second. He was used to rising before the sun thanks to Moody. The wizened Auror believed that an early rise and a healthy breakfast were key to maintaining a sharp _edge_. He'd learned a week into this physical training that starches were an absolute necessary for prolonged exercise, which was the only way Moody knew how to train. Harry gave "worked like a _dog_" a new meaning, pun certainly intended.

After his customary shower (piping hot; the one indulgence he would never give up), he surveyed the contents of his wardrobe. Headmaster Dumbledore had been gracious enough to provide him trousers, shirts, undergarments and robes. He was quite suddenly struck by the obvious difference to his wardrobe at home.

His teaching robes were formidable, and that was a liberal use of euphemism. Dragonhide breeches were worn instead of trousers, which were too loose on his frame and restricted movement rather than allowing it. On top, he wore a white shirt, the arms nice and loose, topped with a Dragonhide vest. He normally carried an arsenal of weapons on his person, including the small enchanted daggers strapped to his thigh. They were hand-crafted from titanium rather than silver, for obvious reasons. Shin-high Dragonhide boots completed the outfit as well as hiding two spare wands. It was especially lucky that he'd been fully equipped when Rose cast her spell. He wasn't sure if he would have felt so confident without his normal armor.

Tying back his long hair with a conjured leather strap, he absently wondered what kind of impression he would have on the people he knew. Even more, he wondered what his parents would think, or Severus, even. He well remembered how the students in his own time tended to judge their professors.

He was, until they got to know him, a scarred, war-hardened freak. Minerva was a frail old woman. Severus was a mean bastard and Albus was certainly senile, though that was mostly true. Filius appeared a rosy-cheeked jolly sort of man, and Firenze was a strange half-breed.

The truth was that Minerva was fiercely protective, the true mother lioness. Filius was a dueling champion and helped to hold the protective charms on the castle together. Severus truly was a mean bastard, but it was justified, because when an accident occurred in Potions, a _finite_ isn't going to be particularly helpful, especially if you were dead. Albus tended to act quite mad, but his mind worked on a different frequency than anybody else's. Lastly, Firenze was, above all, a proud centaur, with wisdom beyond what any human could comprehend.

He wasn't even going to try and sum himself up, as he wasn't sure that they were entirely wrong about him.

Thinking about the way his students perceived him brought the previous night to mind. It was just like Albus to throw him onto the center stage and watch him flounder about on his own. The difference was that the Dumbledore in his time _knew_ he was doing it.

They had arrived at the Head Table just in time. Naturally, the other professors gazed at him curiously. He could almost _feel_ Slughorn measuring him up. Distractedly, he'd wondered if he seemed interesting enough to merit an invitation to lunch some day. Immediately, the elder students began to murmur to each other. That, at least, was par for the course.

In all honesty, he'd tried to keep his eyes away from the Gryffindor table. He would look too much like Severus should he stare overly long. Still, it was hard to look away. They were the very picture of carefree teenagers. Of course, that made the reality even worse, though only he knew it.

His eyes had fallen on Remus first, who was leaning to his right and chatting with Sirius. Just as he figured, the younger Remus, while having less silver hair and being quite a bit smaller, was just as attractive to him as his older counterpart was. There had been a somewhat disturbing moment where he realized that he and this younger Remus were almost the exact same age their counterparts had been when they'd made love the first time, only reversed. This time Harry was the man in his late thirties aroused by a boy not yet out of his teens. He felt like a horrible pervert. Had he made Remus feel that way? Always before, he couldn't understand why the age difference was so important to his lover. If nothing else, he could now tell Remus that he finally understood.

It didn't mean that he was any less attracted to him, though. The smooth pale skin and small frame had made him wonder what it would be like to dominate this Remus, with his blushing cheeks and fumbling hands. That thought alone was enough to stop his daydreaming. It was in his very nature to be the submissive partner. (Harry personally blamed that on the Dursleys.) He'd never minded that much; it was nice to be taken care of. Cherished, that was the word.

He forced himself to stop looking at Remus.

That meant that his gaze fell on Sirius. It had been in that very moment that he understood what Remus meant when he would lament on how much Azkaban had changed Sirius. Said teen now had his head thrown back in laughter. There was no anger, no stress, and no madness to mar the boy's features. Sure, he was estranged from his family, but he was certainly better off for it. This Sirius had his friends, and their families, to support him and stand beside him. For Sirius Black, life was at its peak. It could, and would, only get worse from here. Thinking about Sirius could still bring his throat to a close.

Across the table from those two sat James Potter and Lily Evans.

Well, he was certainly glad that he wasn't seventeen, because that would be almost unexplainable. While in his teens, he had been quite tired of hearing how much he looked like his father, but he could see how people would feel compelled to mention it. They weren't half telling the truth, too. James had the same fly-away hair, the same pointed chin, and he even sat at the same spot on the Gryffindor table as Harry had. For what was perhaps the first time, he was grateful for the deep scars that covered half of his face.

When his eyes had fallen on Lily Evans, Harry felt time itself stop. The girl was looking up secretly at her boyfriend with such an expression of contentment it had stolen the breath right from his lungs. The memories were old, but he could remember looking into those eyes in his childhood dreams and knowing a mother's love for the first time. To his child-self, it had been a cruel reminder that he had lost so much, but now… she sat right before him, in flesh and blood and brilliant green eyes. Oh, it would have been so easy to fall into those eyes, seeking the realization of his childhood yearnings, but he'd forced himself to look away. The temptation was too strong; he'd reminded himself that he couldn't just jump over the Head Table and embrace the glowing girl, no matter how she unknowingly called to him.

It had taken every ounce of his willpower to cast his gaze around the room, purposely seeking out familiar faces, suddenly in need to some distraction. He'd found Severus sitting in the position of power at the Slytherin table. He'd been saddened that there was nothing he could do to change his friend's fate. At this point, Severus was well on his way to becoming Riddle's favorite follower, despite Malfoy.

If the past wasn't half depressing, and none of them knew it yet. The Headmaster had stood then, drawing the attention of every student in the Hall. Harry had almost broken out into laughter at the similarities between this Albus and his own. The man had the same pull on a crowd, even a crowd of teenagers clamoring for food. The traditional clap of hands quieted everyone down immediately.

"I know you are all just as famished as I, but please bear with me for these few start of year announcements. First, the Forbidden Forest is not named thusly for no reason. Students are not permitted in the Forest. Also, Caretaker Filch would like me to remind you that magic is not permitted in the hallways. The list of banned items has been updated, so please stop by Mr. Filch's office and check the list posted on his office door. What else? Ah! Quiddich tryouts will be posted by your team's captain on the bulleting board in your common rooms. Sadly, first years are not allowed to join the team."

Here Albus had paused and shot him a look. Harry had taken it as the only warning he was going to get.

"Now, as I'm sure you've noticed, we have a new addition to the staff. As the war against Voldemort grows increasingly more dangerous, I have decided to add a Dueling class to the curriculum. This will be mandatory for fourth through seventh years. It gives me great pleasure to introduce Professor Damarchus, who is… well, I'll let him introduce himself. Professor?"

Albus had gestured grandly, ensuring that every eye in the Hall settled on him. They all expected a speech. Suddenly, Harry quite felt like Umbridge from his fifth year. At the time, he had thought that a new teacher making a speech at the Welcoming Feast was inappropriate. Didn't that just make him a hypocrite? He'd stood slowly, letting everyone get a good look. Harry imagined that they could very likely see his daggers shine in the candlelight. The few students brave enough to sit near the Head Table gasped at his scarred face. He'd let his eyes sweep over the students, careful to avoid lingering on the Gryffindor table.

"My name is Harry Damarchus. I've lived all over, but I'm originally from a quaint little village called Godric's Hollow. I've studied Defense for many years, including weaponry and physical, non-magical maneuvers. I belong to a select group of Dark Wizard hunters called the Guild of Assassins(1). I have taught Aurors and students alike. I'm looking forward to teaching you all, and I hope that the information you will be gaining will help you in some way."

The Great Hall had been silent, despite the number of antsy children. Professor Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and had applauded my speech. Many of the professors' faces had been carefully schooled, and he'd seen one or two white, panicked faces in the student body. Looking back, he wondered if it was a wise move, informing them of his Guild Member status.

The night wasn't memorable for those simple reasons, though. The real trouble occurred over pudding, though there were only two people in the Hall who knew it.

Living with a man who swears that chocolate is a cure-all was bound to rub off on him. When it came time to order his desert, Harry had done as he always did: he imagined a lovely bowl of chocolate gelato accompanied by these delightful chocolate biscuits. Said treats happened to be in the shape of dog bones, however. It was a joke that the staff in his own time was used to, but he didn't remember that he wasn't at home until the Headmaster started laughing boisterously. Albus's laughter had earned him sever concerned looks, but the old man simply waved their worry away evasively.

What Harry hadn't counted on was any student noticing his strange confectionary concoction. He certainly hadn't intended for his own father to be the one to rat him out, either, but sure enough, James caught sight of his pudding and nudged Remus, which made the teenager look up from his own identical dessert.

Having the same singularly original food would be awkward, but explainable. The thing that hadn't been at all explainable was the effect Remus Lupin's eyes had on him. Those normally liquid amber eyes had flicked to Harry's own emerald green ones, and even though the contact lasted only a second, the connection had been felt by both parties.

That was what worried him, he mused, coming out of his flashback and staring at the mirror image again. Of course he would feel the pull his mate exerted on him, but he hadn't known that Remus would feel it, too. That made things tricky. Remus wasn't an idiot; he would figure it out eventually, and come looking for him with questions that Harry couldn't answer. Until that time, he would have to be more careful than ever.

And that was saying something for the Boy Who Lived.

He checked his daggers and his extra wands before he left his chambers and began the walk towards the kitchens. There was one thing that he would really miss, being stuck in 1978. Right now, Dobby was in the Malfoy's employ, being kicked and abused whenever Abraxas took a whim. The image unsettled his stomach, and for a moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to find his friend and hug his tiny elf shoulders. Poor Dobby.

There was a popping sound directly beside him, and he nearly shrieked in surprise. His wand shot into his hand and was trained on the little intruder immediately. Harry had to pause a moment. He wasn't used to seeing the small elf wearing rags; Dobby in his time had become quite used to outrageously patterned boxer-shorts and had a vast collection of socks. This elf was cowering and trembling.

"Dobby? What are you doing here?"

The tiny creature tugged on his ears pitifully.

"Dobby was cleaning in Master's kitchen when Dobby felt he is being needed."

Harry checked the corridor for any stray wanderers. He knelt and placed a hand on Dobby's shoulder, his heart tearing itself to pieces when the small body flinched away.

"Dobby, I'm not your Master. Please don't risk incurring Malfoy's wrath. How did you know to come, anyways?"

The elf's light blue eyes were watery and wide with honesty.

"House elves know their Masters, Harry Potter sir. An elf's bond is permanent and visible to that elf only."

Harry wondered if that meant that Dobby could still see his bond to the Malfoys. A mark of bondage was something that Hermione would be appalled by, and he sure wasn't going to be the one to tell her about it. He cast a privacy charm.

"Okay Dobby. I'm from the future; it was an accident, and nobody can know my name but the Headmaster. When I know you, you'll win your freedom, but right now you must stay with the Malfoy family. I am truly very sorry that I cannot rescue you, but I can't change history. I need you to stay with Lucius. Please forgive me, Dobby. I know how badly you yearn for freedom, but I must let things play out as they should."

The small elf's chin was trembling, but he didn't trust out in tears, thankfully.

"Master… Master will _free_ Dobby?"

Harry nodded and waited until Dobby looked up at him.

"I swear an oath on blood and magic that I will free you, Dobby, house elf. You will, one day, be able to repay your current Masters for the abuses they inflict as a freed elf. I will support you as a friend, and more importantly, an equal in all ways. What say you?"

The little elf looked at Harry with round, wet eyes. Slowly, the small body straightened from its submissive crouch. The bend head tilted up proudly and the tears dried. Dobby's voice was strong and firm, renewed and prideful of himself, as he deserved to be.

"Dobby swears an oath on blood and magic that to repay his Master's kindness, Dobby will always protect Harry James Potter, wizard. Dobby will wait patiently and learn everything he can in order to help his_ friend_. So mote it be."

A thin strand of fire flicked from hand to hand, sealing their promises to one another. Harry smiled, seeing Dobby changed now. Gone was the crouching, fearful creature. He leaned over on a whim and hugged his miniscule friend.

"Thank you for trusting me, Dobby. It means a lot to me."

Dobby was beyond words, smiling bashfully, having never earned a touch in affection or gratitude. Harry stood.

"You should return to your duties. I don't want Abraxas or Lucius to have a reason to hurt you for this, my friend. Go in peace."

Dobby bowed once, so deep that his nose brushed the floor, and disappeared silently. Harry took a deep breath and lowered the privacy charm. After tickling the painted pear and entering the kitchen, he was bombarded by a horde of over helpful house elves. One small female with beautiful, intelligent gray eyes approached.

"My name is Mitzy. How can I help you, sir?"

Harry was instantly intrigued. He'd never come across an elf with such proper grammar. Even the elves that were submerged in wizarding society, such as Dobby, continued to speak botched English. This small female was oddly refreshing.

"Good Morning, Mitzy. My name is Harry, and I'm a new professor this year. I was wondering if I could take an early breakfast in here with you. I know you're very busy, and I apologize if I'm interrupting your work."

The little elf blinked, and for a moment, he felt a childish sort of gee that he could surprise her as much as she did him.

"It is no inconvenience, Professor. What would you like this morning?"

Harry smiled at the polite female. He would definitely be looking her up once he was back in his own time.

"Whatever you're preparing for breakfast in the Great Hall will be fine. Thank you very much, Mitzy."

She bowed and disappeared into the kitchen. Harry transfigured a small table and two chairs from a box of matchsticks he kept for that very reason. It was only a moment before Mitzy came back with a large assortment of food. When the elf hovered at his side, he gestured towards the second seat, which was a good deal shorter than his own.

"Would you join me?"

The elf blinked owlishly again.

"I-I don't understand, Professor."

Harry just smiled charmingly. Back home, it was a habit of his to invite a different elf to eat with him each morning. The Hogwarts elves were used to it by now, sometimes even keeping a schedule so that it was neat and fair.

"Have you taken any breakfast yet, Mitzy?" he asked, though he knew she had not.

"No sir. We elves usually wait until the tasks are done."

Harry was very much aware of this policy. Hermione had not let S.P.E.W. go, even these many years later.

"I'm a little nervous about my first day. I was hoping you might like to join me for a bit of early breakfast, and you can tell me anything important I should know about the castle. If you are too busy, I understand. No hard feelings whatsoever."

Mitzy stared a moment and slowly climbed up on her chair. Harry made it rise up so that she could reach the table top. He picked up the tea pot.

"Would you like tea?"

She looked so overwhelmed by his simple question. He shrugged and poured her a cup. Once he'd slid it towards the small elf, she snapped out of her trance.

"Thank you, Professor."

He smiled.

"Please, call me Harry."

The little elf considered him.

"May I ask a question, sir?"

"Only if you agree to call me Harry, Mitzy. We're friends, and friends use each other's names."

She bobbed her head seriously.

"I'd like to ask why you are being unusually kind to me, Harry."

He grinned at her and slid a prepared plate to her.

"I'll assume you mean because you're an elf, and I'm a wizard."

She nodded again, eyes very intense.

"Well, go ahead and eat while it's hot. I'll tell you a story."

He took a sip of his tea and took a bite of the steaming scramble. The little elf nibbled her food daintily. Harry surmised that she must have belonged to an older Master, perhaps an elder pureblood woman. That would account for her perfect grammar and her impeccable manners.

"When I was twelve years old, a mere elfling to you, there was a very evil wizard who sought to kill me. He murdered my parents when I was just an infant, and he wanted to finish the job. However, before I could go to school that year, a house elf came to warn me at my home. He wanted to tell me that my school would not be safe for me. He even tried to get me expelled, so scared for my life he was."

Mitzy was leaning forward slightly, listening raptly to his tale. Harry hid his smile with his teacup.

"Was this elf bound to you, sir?"

He looked down his nose at her.

"Harry?"

"This elf was bound to a servant of the evil one. That's how the elf knew that something bad was planned for me. I went to school, not heeding the elf's warning, so he tried something worse. He cursed a set of Quiddich bludgers to attack me during a game, thinking that if I were injured too badly, I would be taken away from school."

The elf's eyes widened.

"The elf sought to hurt you, Harry?"

He smiled warmly, remembering Dobby bashing himself on the head with the Skele-gro bottle.

"No, he wanted to protect me, Mitzy, no matter what, because getting hurt is better than dying. He was acting out against his family, understand. He frequently felt the urge to punish himself, but I would not let him."

"Sir?"

Harry let that one slip by. The prospect that a wizard would intervene with an elf's punishment was unheard of.

"I didn't grow up in the magical world, and so to me, the elf was just another person. I didn't want him to be hurt, because I wouldn't want to be hurt. I never thought, nor have I ever thought since, that an elf was less important than I am."

"What happened next, Harry sir?"

He pushed his plate back and leaned forward.

"The evil one had given the elf's Master a book that would harm me, but I did not know that it was his Master who did it. I defeated the evil one and saved the day, but the elf's Master was very angry at the elf for disobeying his orders. The Master came to the school to retrieve his elf and speak with the Headmaster. While there, I cunningly took off my sock and hid it in the pages of the book. When the Master and his elf left the Headmaster's office, I followed him."

Mitzy was now clutching her tea cup to her small chest and watching him with wonder. Harry loved interacting with elves. They were always so honest and delightful.

"We were in the hallway when I approached the Master. I taunted him with the book, telling him that I knew it was his. In his arrogance, the Master thrust the book at his elf to carry, and therefore gave his elf the sock that was hidden inside."

Mitzy almost dropped her teacup.

"Harry _freed_ the elf that helped him?"

Harry laughed.

"You seem very nice, Mitzy, and I hope that you have had a good life so far, but that elf's Master was evil, and he liked to hurt the poor elf for sport. You wear nice clothing because the Headmaster is a kind man, but this elf dresses in dirty rags to show that he is unimportant to his Master. No, this elf wanted nothing more than to be freed, and I helped him because he helped me."

Mitzy set her cup down on the table and leaned back in her small chair.

"Harry sir, what happened to the elf?"

"Well Mitzy, after being freed, he came to work for Hogwarts, and he was paid one knut a week. He is the first ever paid elf in our world. After I left school, he came with me, bonding himself to me. I pay Dobby one galleon a week and give him time for vacation, wherever he wants to go. He is my friend and my equal, and I would be dead without him. You see, once his Master realized what I had done, he got very angry and tried to kill me, but Dobby stood in front of me and protected me from his old Master."

Mitzy hopped down from her seat, and Harry cancelled the transfiguration on the wood. Stooping to pick up the matchsticks, he noticed Mitzy twisting her fingers.

"Harry sir, that does not quite answer my question."

He smiled.

"Mitzy, I am kind to you and all elves because I do not see you as a servant. I do not see you as lower than me. I respect your thoughts and your ideas, and I am in awe of your magic. I would count myself lucky to call you my friend, and nothing less."

Mitzy nodded slowly and stared up at him with some emotion unnamed. He shrugged internally and smiled at the small elf.

"Thank you very much for sharing my breakfast with me, Mitzy. I am honored. If you ever need anything, you can come to me, no matter what time or where I am. I promise to always listen to you and to help you whenever I can."

With that, he bestowed the unnerved elf with a bow of his own and left the kitchens.

* * *

A/N2: This chapter is a bit smaller than the last one, I know. I thought about putting Harry's first day in this chapter, but got inspired with Mitzy's character. She's a very odd elf, isn't she? The next chapter _will_ be the first day of teaching, from both Harry and Remus's viewpoints.

(1) Extra points if anyone can tell me where the Guild of Assassins comes from. I'd take the movie or book equivalent. :D

Peace, Love, and REVIEWS!!! (Especially the reviews)


End file.
